


More Precious Than Gold

by FujiRouge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Animal Death, Childhood Friends, Dragon Tom Riddle, Growing Up, M/M, Magic, Mute Harry Potter, Possessive Behavior, Prince Tom Riddle, Slow Burn, fantasy medieval
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FujiRouge/pseuds/FujiRouge
Summary: A-ten-year old prince, Tom Riddle ventured to the Forbidden Forest in hopes of finding a beast, he ended up bringing home a homeless boy who was born without a voice.A story of a royal prince and a lost boy growing up together.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 22
Kudos: 304





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (EDITED: 12/16/20)
> 
> I'm a sucker for Possessive Tom growing up with Harry, so this is mostly a self-indulgent fic. The setting is a fantasy historical place. It's my first time writing a mute character so I hope I got it right.

The Forbidden Forest had the name forbidden for a reason.

Every adult or parent must've told a child at some point, to never cross that looming forest for tales of beast and monstrosity lurk underneath. Tom's parents, most especially his worrisome mother, had warned Tom.

Though, people should know by now that Tom was never known to be obedient.

So far, exploring the towerings trees, branches curved and spiraled into different contortions, Tom had yet to meet a creature. Shadows crawled everywhere, nearly blanketing the forest in darkness if it weren't for the peaks of sunlight. It had an eery aura to it, giving meaning to the forest's disreputable reputation.

Many minutes of scavenging into the depths of nature, the only animal Tom soothed was a deer who scurried off once he stepped on a branch. His boredom reduced him to bow his head, staring at the ground for traces of entertainment. But it ended up as aimless, nothing but rocks and dead leaves. 

A jaded butterfly fluttered a bout. Tom, quick with his hands, seized the bug with a quick squeeze. Power curled in his veins for a split second, his boredom taking place once again.

He tore off the wings from its body, observing the wings; the black embellishes made an elegant swirls of pattern, white spots drawing the corners of the wings. It was beautiful. Tom gave a few seconds of admiration before dropping it to the ground.

He sat on a large stone, shoulders hung in disappointment. Where was the creatures this place promised? Were they all simply stories to keep children from misbehaving? It was a possibility, but a boring one.

He checked his pocket watch, four hours remained before evening reached the sky, although knowing his mother— she must be looking for him by now. Standing up, he went back to the road he came from. 

As he drifted back home, head clouded in disdain of having being thwarted. _What a waste_ , he thought until his ears alerted the sounds of faint sniffles and breathing.

It came behind the bushes, just a few feet away from him. Tom perked up, grinning. No sane person would ever come here, not after the stories that spread around the villages like wildfire. It had to be a creature.

He slowly inched closer to the source of whimpers, making sure to keep his steps as slow and steady, like walking around shattered glass. Once he was close enough to reach the bushes, he spread the leaves open and—

A child. 

Tom scowled.

This forest continued to disappoint him. 

A boy, younger than him judging by height, with a nest of black curls, sat on the ground, face hidden behind his arms. As if sensing Tom's presence, he lifted his head and blinked owlishly at Tom, wet tears stained his cheeks, lips chewed and flaking.

His clothes were dirty and ragged, skin smudged with filth, similar to beggars he found sleeping in the sidewalks. Tom inwardly sneered, disgusted. His limbs were skeletal-like, the boy's cheeks hallowed and lost some fat that usually brought out a child's youth. He was malnourished, certainly starving.

Cautious, the boy simply watched while Tom kneeled down in front of him, leveling his gaze. He tilted his head, curious. "You shouldn't be here. Do you know the stories regarding this place?"

The confusion from his face answered Tom's question. "Do you know why people don't come here?" He asked, letting out a slight pause. "Terrible things happen to them."

There was no fear, nothing. Just a blank stare.

"Did you get lost?"

No word. 

The rude silence ticked him off.

Tom tried a much calmer approach. "If you are, I can help you get out of this forest."

He remained still, barely a blink, the only movement Tom saw was his breathing, chest steadily moving as pursed lips let out puffs of air. His face darkened, irritation wrapping in tendrils. 

"Does your ears not work?" Forceful, he yanked the boy's chin and watched, _finally,_ surprise flashing in his eyes. "Or are you just too dull-witted to understand?"

Eyes flashing like glinted emeralds, determination curled in his face and fought off Tom's steel grip, teeth gritted together in a manner of holding back the tears. He jerked his body away, shaking his head in hasty attempts of breaking free.

He tried to escape by shoving Tom but he snatched both hands away, fingers tightening so harshly that he heard the boy let out a pained gasp. He _kicked_ , _shook_ and _bite_ , so pathetic and desperate, Tom nearly let him go, to watch him run with a tail between his legs. Perhaps play a game of chase, he always liked playing predator; though right now, he wasn't in a mood to play with his food.

And those eyes.

If looks could kill, this boy could set him on _fire_.

It wasn't long till he went still within Tom's grip, finally drained by his restless actions. Head lowered down to expose the vulnerable nape of his neck. His breathing increased than normal, gasping out air erratically that Tom wondered if he somehow choked on his own tongue.

Suddenly, the boy went limp and fell to his chest.

For a second, Tom thought he scared the boy so much, he gave him a heart attack. But after checking his pulse and shallow movements, Tom realized he simply went unconscious, starvation and exhaustion finally taking the toll on him.

He let him sleep on his chest, the weight leaning against him was close to nothing. Ebony locks tickled his nose and Tom raised a hand to thread his fingers through several knots of hair. The texture was rough, indicating the boy had yet to take shower after several days. Tom stopped his petting, nearly shoving the boy away from him. He hated filth, even more when it was on him.

He turned to his sleeping face, peaceful and calm and showed more of his age, no more visible lines that aged him.

Tom wasn't kind. He could leave the boy here to rot, if the stories held any truth, let any magical creature or a normal animal feed on his body. Why would he care for some stranger who didn't have basic decency?

Although, a small part of him wanted to keep the child sleeping on his chest. Pick him apart, break him beyond repair. He could still feel the scratches left on his skin, they trailed in angry marks and brought a sort of sting.

Eyes like his had its own brand of rarity, precious like gemstones. Green was his favorite color and the determined look he gave fueled something in him. It was rare to find people who didn't crumble beneath his grip. Also, his mother would finally get off his back about finding company or, he scowled, _friends_.

With great ease, he carried the boy behind his back. 

Tom decided to keep him, and if he ended up as a bore, he'd throw him back to the forest.


	2. Chapter 2

A child’s laugh was supposed to be innocent. Filled with joy and energy, similar to a church’s bell or the tweet of passing birds.

But Harry didn’t thought the same, Dudley’s friends, boys who were older or if not, a bit younger than Harry’s; their laughter was nothing but pure mockery. It was high-pitched, vibrating through his head like a broken symphony. Laughter that could cause damage as much as their hands did.

Hands. Nimble hands that twisted into wild raven locks. His head having no choice but to follow along their movements, chin tilted up until his head was high enough to look at the sky. It was dark, no trace or outline of stats. He avoided looking at their faces. Not wanting to see, he didn’t want to see—

_“What’s wrong, freak?”_

Distorted, shrill, loud. He squeezed his eyes tight, their hands pulling so hard that it’s a mystery why his head was still intact. Maybe it was better if it did fall out, anything to get away from this.

_“Look at us.”_

A force in his body caused his eyelids to pry open, something was controlling his body to do this. No. His mouth opened and came a wretched scream, but it wasn’t his, this voice wasn’t his nor did he believe it belonged to anyone. This voice switched, from a man, to a woman, to a child, to a cry of an animal.

His cries almost reached the heavens above. Until little by little, the agonizing reveal of their crinkling skin and curled lips, wide and manic. And God, their eyes.

Glowing reds.

He screamed, voice so high, it shook the ground, the world and his soul.  
  


* * *

Gasping, Harry woke up.

His heart was beating hard. Harry quickly sat up as a shriek of surprise came beside him. Sweat filled his back and face, making the clothes sweaty and uncomfortable. Slowly, he turned to the stranger. It was a woman, judging by her outfit, she was likely a maid.

He finally took notice of how his body ached from utter soreness and his stomach had a familiar burn. Starvation, he realized but it wasn’t anything new.

Confused, he looked around, taking in his new surroundings. The canopy bed he was in was made of velvet, a shiny gold and incredibly soft, so unlike the thin, rough texture of the blanket he used to cover himself from the cold. The light from the chandelier caught his eyes, crystals glimmering like miniature suns. Every furniture placed was grand and elegant, displaying the owner's riches.

Harry shouldn't be here.

"Um... Sir?" The maid called, garnering his attention. "I was about to wake you up. I have prepared you a shower."

Shower? What? Harry squinted at her like she had grown two heads. The lady in front of him was much older, the lines of her face and the slight greying hair meant she must be around her 40's or older, yet she was calling Harry sir.

"Please, follow me, sir."

She waited patiently for Harry to stand up from the bed, due to his exhaustion, he acted slow. "Would you like me to help you?" She asked.

Harry shook his head, putting on the glasses from the nightstand once he realized it was his.

"Alright," she nodded and Harry's feet pressed the carpeted floors.

The bathroom was a few feet away, Harry was about to open the door but the maid already pushed the door for him. Reluctant, he took a step inside and as expected, everything was just as beautiful as the bedroom.

"I will prepare your clothes on the bed, sir. Is there anything else you need?"

Yes. Where the bloody hell was he?

Instead, Harry reluctantly nodded and watched her leave, closing the door on her way out.

After discarding his clothes, Harry dipped his foot in the bath, warm greeted his skin and soon enough, he placed his body in the water, a content sigh leaving his lips. He found amusement from bubbles forming on his hands as he rubbed the shampoo together with his hands.

The fragrance was a sweet mixture of lemon and cream, he pressed them on his scalp. Despite the bliss  
of getting a shower, there was a pit of apprehension still resting in his stomach. There must be a reason why he was here. The last thing he remembered was being in the forest, lost and helpless.

He remembered crying so hard, his head spun around. Then he heard a noise of ruffling leaves before he raised his head to see—

He scowled, annoyed at himself. _What did he see?_ Yellow. He remembered seeing yellow, then feeling a large amounts of distress but distressed _from what_?

His overthinking began to form a headache, so he stood up, legs wobbling as he came out of the tub. He'd find out later. Surely the person who brought him here would eventually appear, perhaps even provide the answers.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he walked outside.

Immediately, he realized another figure present. It wasn't the maid. A boy, he realized.

He was sitting on the foot of the bed, leg pulled up against the other, with an impeccable posture. The clothes he wore showed how he wasn't just a normal person, they looked lavish, green and black robes with beautiful embroidery. When he lifted his head, Harry nearly ducked away, his face was cut into sharp edges, clean-cut like a diamond.

Harry's heart dropped, cold realization dropped upon him.

_He was holding both his wrist, they were harsh and imprisoned him, the same as handcuffs Harry usually saw from slaves. He was enjoying this, finding power from Harry's struggle and display of weakness. Harry didn't see his face clearly, the edge of his eyes already blurring with tears but he could see—_

An unnatural shade of yellow. Harry never imagined anyone could have yellow eyes.

"Did you have a good bath?" He mused.

Harry became motionless.

Something dark crossed his face, before quickly going blank again. "I'll let you get dressed first," he said.

His awareness peaked high when he realized the vulnerable state he was in. A sudden flush reached his cheeks but he ignored it, walking warily to the bed and letting a yellow gaze follow him in every move. 

The clothes sprawled against the bed. He pressed a hand on the fabric, fingers spread and letting the softness glide around his palm. They weren't as lavish as what the boy was wearing, but they were certainly high quality, probably the most expensive thing Harry had worn.

He was about to put them on, but he turned to the boy first. He cleared his throat, suddenly awkward.

Amused, he turned around.

Harry let out a silent sigh.

He quickly put on the clothes, putting on his underwear— Merlin, they even prepared that. Then his trousers next.

When he was nearly finishing the last button of his shirt, the boy finally turned towards him.

Their gazes met. For a while, the boy stared at him— was he waiting for him to speak?

"Are you not gonna ask questions?" He asked, his tone annoyed from his silence.

Harry pressed his lips together, before gesturing to his throat.

Finally, a flash of recognition reached his eyes. "You can't talk?"

Harry nodded.

"So that explains it..." He muttered, then stood up to his legs and headed towards a wardrobe. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, his hand taking out a piece of parchment and pencil.

He shook his head, brows pinched. Should he?

"My name's Tom Riddle," he passed them along Harry. "Write your answers here—" he paused, briefly. "Can you write?"

He does. Though he dropped out of school because the Dursleys couldn't support him anymore, he mostly taught himself by reading the dusty books abandoned on the shelves. Thankfully Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't care about him reading and left him alone with them.

Accepting them, he laid the parchment on the nightstand, knees kneeled down on the floor to scribble, 'I'm Harry Potter'.

Oddly enough, Tom stared at him for while. "You truly don't have a speck of clue of who I am?"

He wrote. 'Are you someone important?'

Then Tom let out a sound from his throat, as if he was fighting back a laugh.

This time, it was Harry's turn to stare, his confusion continuously growing.

"That's a first, people usually know my presence from a mile away. Did you live under a rock?"

No, a _cupboard_ , but he refrained from saying that. Instead, he asked. 'Who are you then?'

Tom briefly stayed silent, clearly considering something before his lips twitched slightly. "I'll let you figure that out, Harry."

Harry frowned. 'Why am I here?'

"Maybe you are dull-witted," he muttered. Harry didn't have time to understand what he meant when Tom continued. "I saved you. You got lost in the Forbidden forest, if I didn't come, you'd most definitely been eaten by a magical creature."

Harry wanted to say more. Savior, _right_. Though he had a feeling Tom would be offended if he said otherwise, so he replied. 'So I could leave now?'

"Leave?" Tom peered at him sharply, a dangerous gleam. "No, you'll be staying here. Until I say you could leave."

 _I'm not an animal._ Though he didn't need to write it down, his expression already echoed his thoughts.

"You owe me, Harry."

'What am I supposed to do here then?'' his handwriting turned atrocious than it already was, hand gripping the pencil tightly from his contained anger. He was always ending up as a caged animal, from the Dursleys, to Tom.

"Easy," he raised his chin in such a snobbish way, Harry would've laughed if he could. "I know you're poor, I noticed your clothing was ripped and tattered. Not to mention incredibly malnourished. I'm giving you a spot to stay here, at least temporarily so, in this place, you would be fed, clothed and have a roof over your head."

Harry frowned, as if Tom's words passed through his head. This had to be a joke.

"If you're worried about your family, we could owl them and tell them you're staying for a while. I'm sure when they realized who I am, they'll have no qualms of letting you stay over," he sounded so confident that Harry's relatives would and to be fair, he was right.

'But why?'

"You see, my mother has been quite..." he scowled. "Persistent, regarding my social life. She sets up play dates to anyone. I've grown tired of being in the company of spoiled children. If you pretend to be a friend of mine, she'll finally stop being so infuriating."

Harry could've sworn he saw a flicker in his eyes.

"It's a win-win, Harry. You have to be stupid to decline."

He was right.

Harry would do anything to be anywhere but the Dursleys, although Tom's personality was a bit... unpleasant, he was still far better than Harry's relatives. At least this time, he'd be fed, had a bed and decent clothes.

So with that, Harry nodded.

"Good. I expect you'll be doing anything I say?"

Harry bit back an eye-roll. Maybe this is why Tom had trouble making friends, he treated them like servants.

Though he knew that Tom was only asking him to pretend one, not to actually be his friend. Harry nodded again. Feeling his knees tire, he stood up and sat on the bed, just beside Tom's, their legs a few centimeters apart.

"That day I found you. Why were you crying?"

Harry paused. He turned to Tom and found him already staring.

He considered lying. But in his mind, a part of him knew that Tom would somehow figure it out. Tom wouldn't appreciate his dishonesty so soon and right now, Harry needed him to survive and not be thrown in the streets or worst, have himself crawling back to the Dursleys.

'I got lost.'

"Why?" Tom ignored Harry's uneasiness about the topic. Prat.

'My cousin and his friends chase me, before I knew it, I was in the forest.' his hand gripping the pencil began to shiver. He could see the misty memory of just running until he couldn't breath, running until his body would collapse and fall. Although he didn't remember much of heading to the forest, he just did, as if somehow teleporting there. Harry fell to his knees, until tears streamed down his face, helpless and so, so lost.

"You didn't fight back? You just let them hurt you?"

Harry scowled from the clear mocking tone. It was three against one, it was hardly a fair fight. He gripped the sheets of the bed, fingers fisted on the soft cotton and let the silent seep in, his gaze wandered at the window as sunlight peaked out in fragments. The air around them began to turn heavy, Harry wanted him to leave.

As if hearing his thoughts, he felt the bed move and turned around to see Tom standing up, he smoothened his clothes and gave Harry a stern look. "A servant will be coming here shortly, they'll show you the way to the dining hall," he said, before striding out the door, tail coats dancing upon his exit.

Just as Tom said, a maid did arrive on his door. "Sir, we have prepared you a meal. The young highness requested for you to come down and eat." Knowing Tom, it wasn't a request at all.

An idea popped out and Harry hurriedly wrote down on the parchment before turning it over to the maid.

The maid stood still for moment, then read the words on on display. "You want to know who Thomas Riddle Jr. is?"

 _Thomas, huh?_ The name sounded familiar.

Harry nodded.

The maid gave him a squinted look, mentally questioning why Harry didn't know but refrained from saying anything. "Thomas Jr. is the first and only son of king Thomas Riddle, which means he is the next line to the throne."  
  


* * *

"Thomas!" His mother called, green dress flowing as she headed towards him with a stern look. "Lucius has been waiting for you arrival. How could you leave a visitor like that?"

Tom clenched his teeth. His mother was truly annoying, she scheduled every royal boy that was closer to Tom's age and expected him to go along with it? He carefully masked his face, giving a slight look of shame. "I apologise, mother, I simply got home and met someone."

Her blue eyes widened, pleased. "Really? What's their name? Did you made a friend?"

Salazar, woman, calm down. He nodded, putting on a smile. "If you wouldn't mind, he's staying here for a while. I found him to be in a tight spot so I brought him in the castle, you see, he's very sick right now. Resting, as we speak. So you could check him out once he wakes up."

Her face curled into concern. "Is that so? Poor boy. I'll let you pass this one, Thomas. Now head over to your study room, Lucius is there."

Tom spun around, heading over a flight of stairs. He doesn't think his mother would mind about Harry being a commoner, her heart already soft for any child, Tom thought it was because she had three miscarriage before finally conceiving him. She clearly wanted to have more children, even knitting some grand dresses until it was brought upon that Tom came out as a boy instead, having another child simply wasn't a choice.

It clearly disappointed his mother that Tom was an independent child, growing up too fast and despising being babied.

His father, on the other hand, was a different subject. He wasn't sure if he would take it well or not. Not that Tom really cared for their opinions either. But his father had always been unpredictable.

Once he reached the door, Tom didn't bother knocking and simply let himself in.

He found Lucius barely raising his head to signify a greeting, his eyes entirely glued on a book, a teacup gracefully held on one hand and the other turning the pages. As always, his long platinum hair was tied back on a low ponytail, intelligent grey eyes finally flickering on Tom, a brow raised in question of his whereabouts.

"I was out," he answered curtly, occupying an empty armchair.

"Out?"

He glared. "Are you also participating to be my mother, Lucius?"

The blonde bowed his head lightly. "I'm sorry, m'lord. Would you like some tea?"

He waved a hand, letting Lucius pour a teacup and gingerly placing it in front of him.

Lucius was the few boys that his mother pushed him into befriending who turned out to be decent. He wasn't annoying, only engaging conversation a few times and if he could tell that Tom was not in a good mood, he wouldn't question it and let Tom have his peace of mind.

"Hogwarts is right around the corner, m'lord."

"Yes... I'm sure it would be thrilling," Tom hummed, his mind slowly drifted back to the thin boy he left behind. Despite being mute, Harry was extremely snappish, if he had a voice, Tom had no doubt he would be spitting sarcastic comments left and right. For a moment, the crying boy he found in the forest seemed more like a distant memory. Tom could feel the anger smoldering in the room, if Harry didn't need him right now, he'd be glaring at him with those smokey eyes.

Deciding to forget Harry for now, he diverted his attention to Lucius. "Where's your younger brother? I figured you would've brought him today like you mentioned last week."

Lucius sighed, exasperated. "Well, yes, I did bring Draco along today. But I somehow lost him in the castle."

Tom raised his brows in amusement. "Lost?"

"I told the servants to bring him here if someone were to locate him, but so far, a person has yet to come," Lucius cleared his throat. "I apologise, m'lord, if you want I could look for him myself. Draco is an extremely stubborn child, he thinks he reached maturity and doesn't require anyone's help."

Tom had never met Draco Malfoy, only seeing him in a few parties. The boy was a spitting image of Lucius, only younger and much shorter hair. "It's alright, Lucius, you don't have to. I'm sure a servant would find him soon enough."  
  


* * *

Harry walked on the castle grounds, stomach full and no longer burning from hunger. A castle. He was in a castle and Tom Riddle was a prince.

When the maid informed him the truth, Harry considered it a joke. Until the fact stood that it truly wasn't the case. He figured Tom was royalty, but he never imagined he was actually the future king. Perhaps the stupid looks Tom passed along was deserving, Harry should've connected the dots when he said his name.

Harry knew the king, but he wasn't sure about his son.

He ignored the curious looks he gathered as he explored around the castle. It was large, filled with towers and huge spaces. One day simply wouldn't be enough to fully explore the castle, his time inside such a grand place was limited, so he wanted to see and savor it as much as he can.

He reached the gardens, held opened by a large silver-crested gate. There was so much green, silver and snake symbols that impacted the castle's inner design, maybe it had some meaning to the family. Harry should research more about the Riddles, especially Tom.

Speaking of son, now that he wasn't ignorant of Tom's position, should he call him his Highness? Harry frowned by the thought. Whether or not he should, he wasn't looking forward to seeing Tom again.

There wasn't any people inside. Harry got to enjoy the flowers as much as he wanted, finding comfort from the sight of them. Flowers of different kinds, magical or not, it didn't matter. Harry saw beauty in every single one of them. He could tell some of them apart, like daisies, roses, tulips and daffodils. His eyes immediately darted on a fiery-coloured ones, mixed in different shades of orange, red and yellow. 

"They're called Sun Sprinklers."

Harry turned around.

It was a blonde boy, just the same age as Harry's, a quick glance on his outfit was enough for Harry to tell that he wasn't a servant. It was another noble child.

"Leaning in too close would result to fire spitting on your face," he bit on a green apple, mouth moving in slow chews, his pointy nose raised high in a display of superiority. "Though, if you don't believe me, I'll be happy to let you test it out yourself."

Harry inwardly sighed.

Why did he keep bumping into spoiled children?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY. I finally have a vision for how this fic is gonna turn out, I started this not knowing the plot but I have some ideas for it now.
> 
> Comments motivate me. I may not comment back, but I definitely read them :3.


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